


The King, The Queen, The Knight, The Spirit, The Witch, The Warrior and the tired old man.

by GrumpyHellion



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Curse AU, F/M, Fairytale characters - Freeform, Lance and Keith are like three thousand years old each, M/M, Magic, No Smut, Pidge is seventeen, That should say this, There is alcohol, because there are some bits I like, curse, fairytale AU, for the record I hate this I just wanted to post it, i dunno, klance, not saying they aren't all friends, not thid, pidge and hunk are the best buddies ever, shallura - Freeform, so a better description would be I selectively hate thid, there is magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 15:56:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13593459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyHellion/pseuds/GrumpyHellion
Summary: There are seven magical beings trapped in the modern world who are bing narrated by a person who is deeply uncomfortable with the idea of plot and who also likes poetry. Cue - the exact thing you don't want from this!I'm not good at summary...





	The King, The Queen, The Knight, The Spirit, The Witch, The Warrior and the tired old man.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. I wrote this a while ago and I'm still debating if I like it or not. I might very well delete it after three hours.   
> Read the tags for more information and also, there is Alcohol in this and a seventeen year old drinks some. 
> 
> I mean she's more like a hundred and seventeen but she never got her driving license and is currently held together with plants, spite and whiskey.   
> All in equal measure.

There is magic in modernity, a tinge of folk-lore and fairytale that clings to the air even in the most rundown of nightclubs. There are Knights and Witches and Warriors and Kings who all stalk streets lined with meth-heads, there are Spirits and Queens and Lords and Liars who all hold a glimmer of the imaginary, of the wondrous about them. And this is a story of such a seven. A Knight, a Warrior, a Witch, a Spirit, a King, a Queen and a tired old man, who wishes he could simply go home. 

Spirits will find their element. They will find it and chase it, never letting the wants or whims of others change their course, staying where the light or tears or darkness falls.   
Standing there in the dull damp of the air. He’s waiting for his people to arrive. The covenant. Rings of smoke curl against his lips and he stands there, alone, lit blue by the neon of the stripper bars. He watches water fall from the sky, a reminder of home and of who he truly is letting it play over his fingertips until he can’t feel them any more.  
The Blue Boy is a man now, he has seen his friends and family hurt and carries the wisdom of a child just before they turn to the unforgiving world of adulthood. A laugh and a smile holds his face in place, ever present, as he masks his flaws in the smoke, flaws he desperately wishes were not there.   
Sometimes he wishes he were not there as well.  
That the smoke and rain would lift him up to a better place than this screaming hellhole, up into the stratosphere where he can dance in the rain and fall into the tumbling ocean again and again and again.   
But then he remembers...  
One pulls up, a red bike, revving loudly screaming for attention.  
Blue Boy grins. Walks down the steps as the other man dismounts from the bike, shaking out black hair and turning towards him, eyes flashing, eyes like a soldier in the thick of hell, lips moving up into a smile, soft lips that cry out “kiss me! kiss me!”  
The Knight is a red wraith in the rain, is dark and hides in shadows, pulling his lover into them, hiding him selfishly, for the light burns him, the light which this Child of the Ice and Rain soaks up and sparkles in.   
But who cares?  
Neither of them do.  
This Knight will follow his spirit to the ends of the earth, an endless flame firing inside of him to catch the figure in the mist so it is his forever.   
Blue leans down and brushes his lips with his finger pushing a cigarette between them.   
‘Light me up’ the dark red man murmurs and he watches the flame with a longing until it dies, caught at his fingertips.   
Inhale,   
exhale   
He blows billows of smoke into blue boys face as the Spirit leans down to kiss him, their heads caught in a cloud of smoke, a barrier from the rest of the world.  
They are the Red Knight and a Child of the Rain and Sea.   
They are fire and ice, and they burn and build each other each hour, second they are alive. 

 

Two more, a Golden Warrior and a Green Witch of the Glen, friends and wingmen and women for life step into view. They have love to spare and know you should use it wisely. They are clever, kind and dangerous, with a green beanie worn over a mop of unruly golden hair and a yellow headband to keep back the stray black tendrils. They walk close together and could have been lovers in another life.   
But now?   
Now one has a girlfriend who he adores and the other is underage single and loving it. Gets drunk every weekend and slays in whatever she wears. Some say her friends choose her outfits for her. Some say the devil gives them to her in exchange for blood sacrifices. Some say its aliens.   
She likes the last theory the best.   
More than a few have lost their hearts to her. They’re lucky that’s all they lost. Computers are her best friend, she understands them better than people. Certain pictures have mysteriously gone missing, as strangely as others have appeared as a warning or threat. ‘You should be nicer to my friends’ is the message. It gets put back. The viruses wiped. The background locked until she says so. Plant tendrils poking their way up through your keyboard. She is untraceable. She is a witch of the green glen, with magic brimming from her fingers and falling in a single   
tap  
tap  
tap  
As green numbers fall and vines creep around your mind, catching you up in her laugh and smile, she will rip you apart and water the remains.

 

Golden boy is a bundle of love and joy, hugs like an elephant and is strong as a mountain. He looks like a kindly god, cooks like a dream and has a brain the size of Atlas. He knows. He checked.  
Everyone loves him, everyone wants him to be happy, because he wants them to be happy and so they all fight for each other because they can and must. He is genius in the shape of a lovable wretch.   
Until... well. I can tell you this. You will forget as soon as he smiles at you again. Do you see the slight shadow under his left eye? There.  
You see, once there was blood spilt. Blood spilt when the green girl was hurt and wounded and falling.   
And The Golden Warrior of the Sun and Earth donned the color black and ran through the night to find a monster.  
The shadows turned their backs and the stars watched on in cold silence as blood was spilt, for a wicked spell had been cast on the witch and she had to be saved from the hurt.  
Green and Gold. A Warrior of the Sun, Earth and Blood, and The Witch of the Green Glen.

 

Finally, he appears. Warrior. Knight. King. Lounges against the wall, smiling slightly as the other congregate around him.   
Do you remember where you are from?  
Where did you go?  
Why do these people protect you?  
You are a fighter a champion.  
You don’t need them.  
Shhhhhhhh the night whispers. They pulled him out of a hellhole that never deserved to exist. But you didn’t hear that.  
The shadows rush away with the sea of rumors.  
They are his body and mind guards whilst he protects their physical form.  
They are tight knit knights and they must protect their kingdom.

 

‘So. Shall we?’  
He grins as the others laugh and cheer.  
VIP’s of a sort. Everyone knows who they are, they are legends in their own right and they go where they please.  
They visit you for a single night and then you are the most popular place in town.  
So in they go, green first, grinning at the meathead, then gold, scooping her up and putting her on his shoulders as she squeals and laughs. They are friends for life. Until death do them all part.   
The two lovers curl around each other, each one more protective, stealing kisses and snarling at anyone who makes eyes at the other. They ignore anyone not worth their time. They are together tonight. They are each other’s until day breaks when they will speak to their friends again. This was the agreement. This was the curse.  
The King walks in last, looks around the room, surveying his domain. All is as it should be. They move through the throng to their place, their corner, their booth.   
Except.  
Something is wrong. Something is not right.  
There is someone else here. Another Legend.   
She is alone. She came because she knows the bartender and likes him, his laugh and stories and mustache.   
She stayed because the music was good and there was no one for her at home.  
She misses her home.

So this legend, this queen dances her sorrows, her tears away.  
She wears purple and gold, Empress of Versailles, closing her eyes and throwing her head back in an ecstasy of disappear.   
Moving like a model, spinning like a beauty queen on crack.  
Then the song changes.  
She snaps out of her fit, her lie, her daydream and walks to the bar.  
The crush parts before her – it doesn’t have a choice.  
She throws back brightly colored drinks with five different liquors in them and laughs at a joke.   
A shitty pickup line.  
Almost agrees to the one night stand it offers with it but then, on a closer inspection of the goods decides that there are better fish in the sea.  
She glances around the room, looking for a night time knight, a single stand king.

The night time king is frozen, watching as she dances alone.  
As she moves alone.  
He wants her.  
And she could want him.  
He stands, slowly, as a new song starts, a slight smile dancing across his lips.   
He is king here.   
Surely that is enough?  
And as he moves into the crowd,  
they part and absorb him, accepting him as one of their own.  
So he dances his fears away for the night, looking for a satisfactory partner that is not this, this queen, because he is a little scared of her if truth be told.  
The lovers curl up each other lap whispering words in their ears.  
They giggle at each other and the lies they tell.  
Then they watch the dance play out.  
‘You go guy’ one murmurs as king hunts in the crowd for someone who could possibly be a queen to his king.  
He needs a queen.  
But he can find no one as perfect as this majesty.  
And yet he is still afraid of her, he could not attain this great beauty.  
‘Let her go’ runs in his head like a new motto and he has nothing better to do other than to watch her dance by with some ill begotten prince of ages past and times best unremembered.  
How he wishes he could take her.  
But instead, he turns and raises a single hand in farewell.  
He could love her.  
She could love him.  
And as she turns, avenging angel in all her glory, she sees him. She watches him turn to leave.  
And she smiles.  
She smirks and grins.  
She wanted to have fun tonight.  
Here is her fun, laid out on, a, plate.  
A toy to play with for a single evening before it throwing away.  
So she runs after and grabs him by the arm, pulling him into the centre of the crush and wraps herself around him, eyes holding his for a moment before jumping away.  
Except,  
he doesn’t let go.  
He grasp this little piece of her, takes it’s bright and glowing light and pulls it down, down down into his body, when the black ink swirls and light cannot touch.   
It is a beacon in this empty shell, and he smiles, wider than ever before.  
He takes her in his arms and whirls her across the room, because he can take her now. He can hold onto his Queen.  
And she lets him take her, lets him guide her through his domain which previously she had attacked, stormed the castle, waged war like an invading army.  
She found her King. She can control him if she wants. But she wants nothing now other than to be with him.  
She and He dance for hours or seconds, so held in each others eyes and dreams that they cannot let go in case they lose their hope for a better life, their dream for someone else.  
The lovers drag each other away to hidden rooms, laughing, wearing less clothes than when they came in, knowing that the curse will return in the morning, and that it will begin to hurt as they touch, the fire burning the mist.   
They must wait for shrouded nights to kiss each other again, for the harsh light of the day sees their love and refuses to permit it.  
The witch and warrior leave laughing to eat pizza and frosties, and then later to cry on each others shoulders when they realize how much they have left behind and lost.   
The Green Witch of the Glen is still a girl. And her Father and Brother left, and did not return for many a year. Her Father is still missing.  
And the Golden Warrior well - no. His story. It is too tragic for this tale.  
The man at the bar slowly cleans a glass.   
He watches the daughter of his best friend dance with a King of ages past and aches for his home.   
The home he left behind many years ago and can never return too.   
The King and Queen dance on unawares of the happenings around them.  
He takes her home that night and gives her wine and tells her of his life in hell and home. She tells him about her home and how she misses the people she had to leave behind.  
There is something wrong with a world that has broken so many of these powerful spirits.  
I hope one day they will return to their true glory.


End file.
